


The Entire League

by Mildredo



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of reaction fic to both ‘tested’ and ‘opening night’. Mostly just an excuse for possessive!Blaine and gay bar!Klaine</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Entire League

Kurt is really hot.

Blaine’s always known that, of course. Before anyone else took notice, before he grew into his body and became this… Adonis, Blaine thought he was hot. But now Kurt has grown and the rest of the world has wised up, and it would be fair to say that it’s taken some adjusting. It’d be fairer to say that Blaine completely freaked out. He hadn’t realized just how much he had associated Kurt loving him with Kurt needing him, and he’s been working hard to banish that idea. It’s better now. They’re getting better at being adults together.

He’s leaning on the bar in the club, sipping a soda and waiting. There are a couple bartenders who care little enough about keeping their jobs that they’ll serve Blaine alcohol, and Blaine shows his appreciation with generous tips. Saturdays are the busiest nights and there’s always a long wait for drinks, but Blaine doesn’t mind. He’s enjoying the view. Kurt’s still out there, dancing by himself. He looks peaceful, happy, lost in the heavy thump of the bass and the crowd of writhing bodies. There are at least five men Blaine can count around him, watching him, occasionally trying to edge their way in. He’s sure there are more he can’t spot. Blaine isn’t jealous. He would’ve been not long ago, but he’s more assured now. They can look. They can try to touch. At the end of the night, he’s the one going home with Kurt. He’s the one who’ll be making out with him in the cab and having roommate-maddeningly loud drunk sex with him and making pancakes and coffee to heal their hangovers in the morning.  
Blaine loves the way Kurt looks out on the dancefloor – uninhibited, free. They aren’t drunk, really. They had a couple of drinks before they went out, and they’ve had a couple in the club, but they can’t really get further along than tipsy. It’d be obvious if two underage kids were blind drunk, plus the wait at the bar is far too long. It’s just enough for a buzz, enough to make the loud music and the crowd of sweaty strangers somewhat bearable. Sometimes a light sweeps across the room and catches Kurt’s hand, making the ring on his finger glint and Blaine’s stomach jolt. It’s been there for almost a year but he still isn’t used completely used to it. His ring, the ring he put there, the ring that’ll stay there for the rest of their lives (and he always thinks of it as their lives, because the thought that some day one of them will exist without the other is too terrifying).

“You’ve got no chance.”

Blaine turns his head to locate the voice. He has no idea when the guy standing next to him got there. He doesn’t recognize him at all – and he recognizes most of the regulars by now, even if it’s just by a nickname that he and Kurt have unknowingly given them. He’s older, in his thirties or approaching them, tall and tan with a shaved head and a tattoo on his bicep, and he’s made less intimidating only by the brightly colored cocktail in his hand.

“Sorry?”

“That guy you’re staring at,” he says, gesturing vaguely towards the dancefloor with his hand, a slight slur in his voice telling Blaine that he’s already had a few of those cocktails. “The guy with the ass and the… face. You’ve got no chance.”

“Oh yeah?” Blaine says. Playing along with this could be fun, he decides. “Why’s that?”

“He won’t let anyone near him. I’ve been watching him. As soon as anyone gets close, he moves away. Besides, he’s way too hot for you.”

“Too hot for me?”

“Yeah,” the guy says, giving Blaine what he assumes is supposed to be an avuncular pat on the shoulder, although it’s somewhat on the hard side and makes Blaine slosh his drink onto the floor. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re cute. You’d be pretty hot, actually, if you lost the bowtie and the hair gel. But he… he’s like, he could be a supermodel or something. Out of your league, pal. No offense.”

Blaine just smiles. He sets his mostly empty glass down on the bar and walks determinedly into the crowd towards Kurt. When he reaches him, he wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist, pulling him hard against him and kissing him, deep and open-mouthed and claiming. Blaine can almost feel the obnoxious stranger’s eyes on him, astonished, impressed. He can taste the alcohol on Kurt’s tongue and their bodies pulse together from the blood and the dull vibrations of the music shaking the room.

“What was that?” Kurt asks when they break apart, breathless.

“Some idiot at the bar saw me watching you. Apparently, you and your supermodel good looks are out of my league. Thought I’d prove him wrong.”

“Supermodel, huh?” Kurt says, grinning. He leans in and kisses Blaine again, a little less heated this time, a little more tender. “I think I’m smack dab in the middle of your league.”

“You’re the entire league,” Blaine smirks, and Kurt swats his shoulder playfully. “I lost my place in line. You wanna get out of here instead?”

“Yeah, why not?” Kurt kisses Blaine once more, then takes his hand. “Let’s go home and piss Rachel off.”

They pass the bar on their way out, and the guy is still standing there. Blaine gives him a wink as they go by, laughs to himself at his open mouth and wide eyes, and lets Kurt lead him out of the building and into a cab.


End file.
